


One Night Stand

by lil_pianissimo



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alcohol, Boss/Employee Relationship, Cunnilingus, Drinking, F/M, I Tried, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, One Night Stands, Oneshot, Oral Sex, Riding, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Vaginal Sex, a very long one, fuck yeah, still kind of gay though tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 19:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16455809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_pianissimo/pseuds/lil_pianissimo
Summary: “Let’s say that I did want to sleep around, what of it?”He peered into his glass knowingly, the smart-ass, and looked back to her, “What of it?” He repeated, taking a coy sip.She wasn’t an idiot, she understood the implications. “If you are implying what I think you’re implying, it’s not going to happen.”“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” there he goes, feigning ignorance, “all I asked was what you wanted, and what you were willing to do about it.”The two never broke eye contact as they finished their alcohol in prolonged silence.





	One Night Stand

**Author's Note:**

> I just had this image of Izaya eating Namie out, alright? Everything else came with it. Enjoy my first sex scene.

Usually her days are despicably mundane, but today was worse than the usual. Namie was sitting at a bar, by herself mind you, drinking away her day’s problems. For one thing, it had rained all morning and she had happened to get caught in the thick of it, which was wonderful. Then she got caught in an illegal drug trade by the police and had to pay a very generous sum to get out and keep it off her record, her and Seiji got in to a nasty fight, and she got catcalled on the street curb. Ikebukuro at it’s finest. Now, here she was bitterly embracing a gin and tonic at a bar too expensive for its location, but she needed something to waste money on, and when you previously busted a grown man’s nose in return for some unoffered skin, it was a desperate decision.

As she continued to nurse her liquor, a man she recognized very well, approached her with his usual coy expression.

“Namie-chan, what a surprise to see you out and about!” His voice lacked its typical, nonchalant singsong ring, and instead was replaced with a low, gravelly baritone. It was a depressing attempt at keeping its usual flare.

Namie could not find the energy to glare at her boss, but that did not stop her from being annoyed, “What do you want, Izaya?” She was not willing to hold a conversation; the devil himself merely shrugged, but had the audacity to sit by her anyway, respectively one seat away. She groaned, “Don’t you have somebody else to bother in the evening?”

“Not until nine, but my plans were canceled.” He snide with a sneer, “aren’t you a lucky girl!”

Namie rolled her eyes and took another sip. To her mild surprise, she overheard Izaya generally asking the bartender for a Sazerac. She wasn’t sure why she assumed he was just here, if people are at a bar it’s typically to get wasted.

She smirked mockingly, “I recall you mentioning that you had a distaste for alcohol.”

Izaya held the square glass by his fingertips and swirled the drink around aimlessly, purposefully avoiding eye-contact with the latter, “The general rule of thumb, Namie-chan, is that a little alcohol never hurt anyone.”

She scoffed, “Nobody says that.”

“It’s unspoken.”

The two continued to casually indulge in their drinks in relatively comfortably silence, until the latter spoke up, “Rough day, wasn’t it?”

Namie finished her first drink and peered at the intruder, “Is it that apparent?”

The other laughed deprecatingly in response, “Namie, dear, it’s my job to be certain that it is.”

“What if I just wanted a drink?”

“You don’t have to go to the most expensive bar to get a cheap drink like the gin and tonic.”

She looked down at her drink; he had a point, but she still didn’t like it, “Quit analyzing me.”

“Requesting I stop analyzing is like asking a mammal not to breath; it can’t be done.”

“Then just die then.”

“Your impression of Shizu-chan needs work.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

At this point, Izaya bothers to turn and face her, “Not even close, but I can see how you came to that assumption.”

Another glass was placed in front of Namie as she ignored thanks and went straight to the drink. “Then what does bring you to this very expensive bar in the middle of town?”

Izaya swished the drink in hand some more and smiled devilishly carefree-like, “Let’s just leave it with, my plans did not go as planned.”

She choked on her drink and snickered degradingly, “You had a bad day? In turn, you may have just made mine.”

He rolled his eyes, “As irritating as it is, I am, regrettably, still human and emotional stimulation from the despicable outcomes of unpreceded events is, unfortunately, a natural reaction to most cases.”

She gaped as he took another swig, “That was the most unnecessary explanation to an excuse I have ever heard in my entire life. Just say your day sucked and get over it.”

He smirked, “I assume ‘getting over it’ is drowning your sorrows in booze?”

“That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?”

He snickered, “No, I am merely extinguishing the discomfort with the numbing effects of alcohol.”

Namie shrugged, not believing any of his shit, but also not caring, “Whatever.”

More silence; Namie, despite not liking the guy, was aware of how elusive Izaya really was. It was intriguing how open and flamboyant he was, yet he maintained a sense of secrecy and mystery. He was an anomaly, an enigma in himself. Therefore, she couldn’t restrain the pure curiosity as to what crushed his demented spirit.

“So, what made your day so dreadful?”

“Nothing that I would bother telling you.” He teased, Namie huffed in annoyance at the response; of coarse he wouldn’t tell her. “What about you?”

She rolled her eyes; there was nothing really worth telling someone who is basically a human filing cabinet…for humans, but at the same time, she didn’t care, “It was a good day for perverts on the streets.”

Izaya stared for a second and then broke into a gross smile, “How delightful! Namie-chan is susceptible to lingering eyes and touchy hands! Must’ve been disgusting for you, but what else would you expect from a man with natural urges?”

She glared daggers, “Are you trying to tell me it’s my fault that I was assaulted?”

“Heaven’s no, those people deserve a special kind of hell, one that I do not rule,” Namie groaned angrily, “I’m saying that you are easy on the eyes, Namie-chan.”

She blinked in disbelief; that was not what she was expecting, “You think I’m pretty?” She questioned skeptically.

“Pretty is used by grade schoolers with crushes, sultry is more of the word I would use.” He took a drink and continued much to her surprise, “Your impressive genetics are nothing to shy away from and anybody who isn’t influenced by your,” he briefly referenced her, “womanly features are either a homosexual, or they are blind.”

Namie was nothing short of bizarrely stunned.

He threw his hands up, “Of course, looks only run so deep. If they were to realize how horrible and rotten you really are on the inside, nobody would want to touch you within a ten-mile radius!”

There it was; that’s the asshole she had the misfortune of being acquainted with. “I suppose you and I are in the same boat then.”

She had expected him to feign injury, per usual, but instead he swiveled his barstool around to face her; a Cheshire grin stretching across his vulpine face, “Are you flirting with me, Namie-chan?”

She was a tad confused at first, but then she realized the implications of what she said and gagged, “Absolutely not. I would never stoop so low.”

“Uh oh, I think somebody’s had too much to drink! You’re going against your inner moral!”

At that, Namie slammed her drink down and glared murderously at the other, “Look, not that I am ever, but I am not in the mood to deal with your games! Yes, I had a bad day and I would like to wallow in it by myself!” She took a defiant gulp of her drink as the other chuckled lowly.

“Are you sure about that?”

“What can you possibly still be going on about? Leave me alone.”

“Oh, but you don’t want to be alone, Namie-chan. I know you.”

“You don’t know as much as you think you do.”

“You’re right, I’ve barely covered the surface area,” that was strange phrasing, “but, from what I do know, you pull this tacky façade over yourself to make other’s see you as indestructible and cold, but really you crave, maybe even desire the touch of another person.”

She raised a brow, still uncomfortable with the odd accuracy, “As wrong as you are, what does that have to do with anything?”

He shrugged, “You’re a woman. When you’re upset, you want comfort. Everyone knows that!”

“Again, I don’t see how this corresponds with my day.”

“It’s simple; what do you really want?”

This conversation had taken a concerning turn, “What game are you playing?”

“None! I am merely striking a conversation! What were your hopes in getting wasted, on a Tuesday, if not to leave with more than yourself?”

“I’m not here to get laid!”

“Then what are you here for?” He jabbed, taking a steady sip of the same drink he’s had since the beginning of the night.

She hated this man with every ounce of resentment that her body could physically muster. Everything was a game to him and every person was something to dissect. She could deny it all she wants, but that’s what trips you up because he already knows anyway, so there is no point in trying when it’s already out on the table. Did she come to the bar to find someone to sleep with? No, not at all. Would sex be an added bonus? Yes, of course it would, but the details don’t matter to him.

“Let’s say that I did want to sleep around, what of it?”

He peered into his glass knowingly, the smart-ass, and looked back to her, “What of it?” He repeated, taking a coy sip.

She wasn’t an idiot, she understood the implications. “If you are implying what I think you’re implying, it’s not going to happen.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” there he goes, feigning ignorance, “all I asked was what you wanted, and what you were willing to do about it.”

The two never broke eye contact as they finished their alcohol in prolonged silence.

              Namie entered the condo following its owner recklessly. She was in this place for hours upon end every day, but somehow, as she stepped in to the room, if felt strangely abnormal and foreign. The fact of the matter was that even though she worked here this was still his house. Izaya Orihara’ s house. Being involved with Izaya Orihara was already a bad omen, but this was a next level curse.

Izaya walked further into the living room, carefree as ever, and casually shrugged off his jacket and set it on the side of the couch. Namie stood rather awkwardly at the foot of the kitchen because she wasn’t sure what to do.

She perked up when Izaya’s modulated voice broke through the thick silence, “I am going to go take a shower,” He began facing away from her, “there’s a bathroom down here if you want to use it.” He pointed to the right of the living room and turned to look at her with a suggestive shrug, “There’s a few things in the cabinets you might find convenient, if you wish to use them.” This was weird, “Meet me upstairs when you’re done. First door on the left.” With that he made his way to what she would assume was his bedroom and left her down there alone.

When Namie walked in to the bathroom she immediately began opening cabinets. Everything was some kind of hygiene item, from mouthwash, to hand sanitizer and other things. The idea that this man designated a bathroom for people to prepare themselves was both simultaneously thoughtful and disturbing. How much intercourse do you have to have in order for you to consider this? What was more troubling was that there was a multitude of things that weren’t meant for women. This was more about Izaya’s sex life than she needed to know about; then again, she was about to know a lot more than what she might be ready for.

After washing up, she really didn’t need to do much, just some facial wash and respectful dental hygiene, she had been drinking after all, she hesitantly made her way to the second floor.

Namie Yagiri was not scared, this isn’t her first rodeo, it was just the thought that she was really going to do this with him of all people. She hated his guts, and he knew that too, but here she was, expecting sex from her beguiling boss. The amount of intimacy that was about to happen was worrisome to say the least.

She knocked on the door first and hearing nothing before entering. She has never been in Izaya’s room, for privacy purposes of course, even the devil needed his own space despite the irony that the world was his playground. A pang of jealousy bubbled up inside of her because it was a very nice room. It was unexpectedly, yet predictably sophisticated for his childish nature, with the tones being consistently off-white or champagne colored. Surprisingly, there wasn’t much in the room itself, and it was not grandeur in the slightest, just simple with noticeable elegance added in to it. Of course, the item she was most focused on was the bed; it was a king, for sure, that stupid whore, with multiple pillows, and those were definitely silk sheets. She has never felt more unnerved by a bed before.

As she continued to stare at the furniture skeptically, the man of the hour walked out of the bathroom (of course he had his own bathroom) in nothing but a loose pair of sweat pants. He aggressively rubbed his hair with a towel before throwing it around his neck, finally taking notice of the other person in the room.

“Oh, Namie-chan, I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

Namie turned away from the unapologetic man before her, “You just take forever.” Is what she settled with in her current state of mind. She wasn’t an idiot, and she certainly was not blind, she knew that Izaya was an extremely attractive male. He was tall, lean, and had many desirable features in a partner. Really his only flaw was his personality, which is a huge deal breaker. She had never gotten a close look at his body before, but he was not as thin as she anticipated. He certainly isn’t built, but his athleticism is surely noted. He wasn’t stick thin, more like appropriately toned, and she found that she couldn’t help but stare at every curve and crevasse his body had to offer.

“Getting antsy, aren’t we?” He retorted to her original statement. “You know, if you want me to take these off, all you have to do is ask.” He teased, knowing that she was staring at him nosily.

She moved her eyes elsewhere, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Namie denied pointlessly, since her eyes were going to be more places sooner or later.

He shrugged nonchalantly, “Whatever you say, Namie, dear.” He tossed the towel into some kind of laundry hamper, and sat down lazily on the bed, phone in hand. Anticipating that the night was officially beginning, Namie began to take off her sweater. She was up to the hem of her bra before she was interrupted.

“What are doing, Namie-chan?” Izaya seemed to inquire with genuine confusion. Puzzled and mildly embarrassed by her behavior, she pulled her sweater back down.

“Stripping? That’s usually what you do when you perform this activity?”

Izaya rolled his eyes and shook his head from side to side, “No, no, you don’t do that, I do.” He said authoritatively, “Come sit down.”

Not willing to follow his commands, but really not having another choice, she sat down on the opposite side, more erect than what Izaya was.

He put his phone down and stared in to her eyes, “First of all, I want to make it clear that nothing will stem from this. I don’t do relationships, friends with benefits, or any kind of long-term emotional attachment; got that?”

She nodded leisurely to the sudden change in character, “Lucky for you, I only love Seiji.”

He smiled coyly, “Then we shouldn’t have any problems!” He turned and propped his torso up with his hand, “Secondly, we need to discuss your turn-ons.”

“Why do we need to do that? You’re killing the mood here.”

“There is no mood, not yet anyhow. In any case, how am I supposed to perform well for you if I don’t know what gets you going? For instance, say you’re into watersports. I am not going to know you get turned on by that unless you tell me.”

Her nose scrunched up in disgust, “Gross, that is vile.”

He shrugged, “It was just an example, Namie-chan, and now I know you’re not into that, therefore I will not subject to anything of the sort!” He finished with a smile.

“You’re disgusting.” She ridiculed shaking her head. This was going well.

“Look, all I want you to tell me is what’s ok, what’s not, or whether or not you care. That’s all I’m asking.”

She gawked at him, baffled, “You care about what you do to people?”

“Of course, I do, you are all my precious humans after all!”

She rolled her eyes, “Well, if you must have an answer, no, I really don’t care what you do as long as it’s sex.”

“Very well then; safe word?”

She was frustrated, “What the hell is with you?”

“Give me a safe word, or I will kick you out and you won’t get anything.”

She wanted to believe that was a bluff, but knowing Izaya, probably not, “Fine,” she said the first thing that popped into her head without thinking, “baby.”

Izaya stared bewildered before bursting into a fit of deprecating giggles, “Baby? That’s what you came up with?”

She flushed a two-toned pink, “Well, there’s no attachment any way, so what does it matter?” She didn’t like the safe word, but she was going to defend it until the day she dies, just to spite him.

He continued to chuckle, “That’s true; fine then, baby it is. That’s going to be very strange in the heat of the moment.”

“This is already weird, Izaya.”

He shrugged, “Whatever you say. I really don’t care.” He then arose from the bed and walked over to a night stand against the wall. He opened one of the drawers and pulled out the necessary items she assumed they were going to use; at least he was courteous.

He looked over his shoulder, “Now, in all seriousness, if there is anything that makes you uncomfortable, or you decide you do not want to go through with this, let me know. I will stop.”

This is probably the third time tonight that she has gawked toward something Izaya said; his personality was like a switch, “You care about consent?”

He looked at her like she was growing a second head, “Obviously. I’m a villain, not a monster.”

“Woah, that’s peculiarly nice of you.”

“It’s not kindness, it’s called decency. The fact that the world makes you think otherwise is disappointing.” Amidst her shock, the man made his way back over to where she was seated and stood at the foot of the bed in front of her.

He looked down at her and smirked, and in a husky voice asked, “Now that that is out of the way, are you ready to get this started, Namie-chan?”

She shrugged, concealing any nerves she might have, “As I’ll ever be with you at the hem.”

He chuckled, “Ouch, you are not sexy at all.”

She began to take off her shirt again, and Izaya grabbed her hand to stop her, “Quit being so hasty, woman; I told you I would take care of it.”

Annoyed, she retorted back at his action, “Stop acting like you’re servicing me; we’re here to fuck, aren’t we?”

He smirked, “Clearly you don’t understand the effectiveness of foreplay; I feel sorry for you. Are all of your one-night stands hit and runs, Namie, dear?”

She didn’t say anything as he quickly whipped out his phone and pressed a few buttons. In seconds the room had a soft ambiance of gold that cascaded down the walls.

She snickered, “What the hell was that?”

He smirked his usual deceptively happy smirk as he tossed his phone to the other side of the room, throwing his hands up, “Mood lighting!”

“God, you take this very seriously.” She responded as she lay back on her back. Namie felt the indention beside her as Izaya began to climb over top of her.

He leaned down next to her ear, sending involuntary shock waves through her body, “I’d ought to when I have someone like you beneath me.”

Izaya placed gentle, feather-like kisses in the crevasse of her ear and followed the natural curve of her jaw the same way. As he left the sensual butterfly kisses, his hands began to tease her lower half, trailing up her thighs, eventually making their way to the hem of her sweater. Her shirt began to ride up slowly as his hands traveled up her stomach, halting only when he reached her bra, then descended back down in repeated vertical motions, massaging the fatty parts of her smooth skin.

Namie moaned softly into the touch as the kisses turned in to sucking against the area connecting her jaw to her neck. After continuing his motions for a few more seconds, he rose from above her, nestled between her legs, and she followed. He worked her shirt off quickly, rolling it up her torso and over her head, with Namie’s help.

After the shirt was abandoned, Izaya unapologetically attacked her neck again, seemingly excited with the new exposed skin. Her breathing was heavy as he left love bites all over her jugular, down to her naked collar bone.

Namie didn’t know what to do with her hands, even though Izaya was using his to effectively leave her breathless, her arms just dangled at her sides awkwardly, because she wasn’t sure if she should hold this man so intimately.

Izaya paused his ministrations and, in a low, breathy voice, spoke against her collar bone, “You can touch me, Namie.” Probably noticing she was still unsure, he grabbed both her wrists and set them on either side of his shoulders, coming up to capture her lips in his. Accepting the placement, she instinctively pulled Izaya closer, deepening their kiss. She played with his hair as he fondled with her bra to get it off, until it wasn’t there anymore, and it was just his hot skin against her burning flesh.

Namie vaguely thought that Izaya smelled like a mint julep: minty, sweet, and fiery. It was a mix of his hair and the aroma of his body. She thought it was out of place, yet strangely him, in a bizarre, unorthodox way.

She also noticed that his skin did not go unmarked by his priorities. There were not as many as she would have anticipated, but the splotches of blue and purple along his body did not go unnoticed. Namie was always curious about why Izaya did what he did, why he was the way he was, but she didn’t care to find out. If he had bruises, he had bruises; she found it kind of hot any way.

“Ow!” She winced at the stinging pain in her shoulder; she took it back, he wasn’t hot, he was an ass! “Don’t bite me, asshole!”

Izaya peered at her with a tongue-and-cheek grin, “Love bites are hot, Namie.”

“No, they are not! They hurt!”

Izaya momentarily propped his hands across her chest and laid down on them, unabashed. “Is this sensitivity, I hear?”

He was breathless, she was out of breath, and she misplaced his humor as sexy commentary. The alcohol must be getting to her.

She blushed, “Don’t be a jerk for once; just don’t bite me anymore.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes, “Fine. I’ll make sure not to mark my territory.”

His breath was warm, and it tickled her chest every time he spoke in that husky voice of his.

She huffed, mostly from arousal, but she was trying to play it off as annoyance, “You’re doing a good enough job of that already, dick.”

Izaya seemed to notice that his breath was doing something, so he smirked and gently ghosted her breast with his lips.

She was sensitive; she knew that without a shred of doubt. That wasn’t necessarily something she could avoid, but she also didn’t want Izaya to find out so quickly.

Now that he has though, he was taking full advantage of it.

She was slowly going crazy. This man was doing too many things to her at once. His hands were roaming up and down her body, groping wherever they could. She would’ve been alright with that by itself; it was stimulating, yet equally comforting, but it wouldn’t have been that simple. No, Izaya wanted her to feel as complicated as possible by rousing multiple places at once.

He was always doing something with his mouth. She noticed he just couldn’t resist keeping it occupied. She concluded he either had a fetish, or it was his way of keeping himself quiet, because Lord knows that is the hardest thing for him to do.

To top off the entire experience, they were grinding against each other, like animals. It was borderline unbearable because their lower halves were still completely clothed.

It was hot, it was erotic, and it was _exhilarating._ She cannot recall ever being so vocal with other partners and she didn’t know if that meant they were horrible, per se, or if Izaya is just that good at pleasuring another.

There was some kind of odd irony behind that thought.

Izaya then hooked his thumbs under the hem of her skirt and tights, while haphazardly leaving hickeys down her abdomen. He yanked them down and off quickly, officially leaving her completely exposed to the man on top of her.

With the new exposed skin, Izaya began to suck and bruise her hips. He really liked hickeys, didn’t he? As she continued to moan and whine at the buzzing mouth to skin stimulation, Izaya reached under her legs and propped them up on his shoulders, firmly placing him in-between them. He teased chaste kisses from her knee down to her inner thigh, all the while maintaining sensual eye contact.

He paused and smirked seductively in to her thigh, “Do you trust me, Namie-chan?”

She peered at him from between her legs, “No, not at all.”

He pouted, “Definitely not sexy at all.” A mischievous grin replaced his frown, “Would you make an exception? Just this once?”

She didn’t have to consider it for long because with the mixture of intoxication and arousal, she couldn’t care less what he was going on about this time.

“Yeah, ok.” She managed to breathe out heavily.

His grin widened unnervingly as he stooped lower; what the hell was he doing?

“This might be where you use that safe word, Namie, dear.”

Before she had a real chance to process the implication of those words, she felt something wet enter her.

Namie cried out and arched her back at the _very_ new sensation. Izaya’s tongue explored her nether regions with aggressive confidence as he casually hummed against her. The slurping noises coming from below her were absolutely _obscene_. The soft gnawing, the sloppy ministrations, everything was electrifying, like a perpetual tremor of lewd pleasure was echoing through her body. Her hands tightened around the bed sheets as Izaya hit a particularly sensitive area.

Suddenly, his actions ceased, “Don’t stop!” It sounded more like a plea; she was going to hate herself when she was sober.

Izaya popped his head up and began to try to push her legs open, “Forgive me, Namie, but you were just about choking me to death.” He said in between deep, jagged breaths.

She blushed aggressively at the recognition of squeezing her legs too tight, “Sorry, I’ll be more careful.”

He smirked, mouth glistening, “You sure you want to climax before we get to the fun part?”

Her face was heated, “Is that what that is?” She pointed to his face mortified.

He chuckled, genuinely, “No, this is just discharge, _but_ you were about to. That’s why your legs were so tight.”

She tried to sit up some, “So…you can tell?”

He shrugged, “The body sends you signals.”

Namie noticed Izaya hook his fingers at the hem of his sweats and, suddenly, she felt a wave of excitement and power rush through her. Namie promptly grasped the man by the shoulders and, to his surprise, shoved him back on the bed.

Izaya, stunned by the sudden ascendency, attempted to sit back up, but was pushed back down with the hand of the woman now above him.

Namie sneered devilishly as she haughtily straddled his clothed hips.

She waved her index finger at him, “Nah, uh, uh, you don’t do that, _I do._ ”

Namie was pleased to see a deeper flush of pink dust the informant’s cheeks and felt a bottomless amount of pride that her actions made him noticeably harder than what he was before.

She palmed at his erection, he winced, “Convenient that you chose loose fitting pants, huh?”

She continued to fondle him through his pants as Izaya’s rough breathing escalated.

Namie scooted back off of the man below her, “Lift your hips up.” She commanded, surprised that Izaya complied so easily. She grabbed the hem of his pants and slowly, agonizingly, pulled them down over his hard on, and then off completely.

She raised a curious brow, “Commando?”

He smirked, “Convenient, is it not?”

She reached for a condom and opened up the package, “Very.”

Namie stuck the condom at the front of her mouth and quickly slid it down Izaya’s cock, and back up, without so much as a second thought. Izaya laid astounded.

He chuckled lightly, “That was impressive.”

She smirked as she put lube on her hand and on to Izaya, “I know.”

Namie threw her head back and pulled her hair up into a very lazy ponytail.

Izaya cocked a rhetorical brow, “How do you want to do this, Namie, dear?”

She positioned herself on top of him again, “You’re going to sit there, obediently, and I am going to ride you.”

“Shit, someone’s got a dominance fetish.”

“I like to be in control. It’s more _thrilling_ that way.”

Izaya put his hands up in defense as Namie positioned herself above him. Taking a deep breath, she slid down on to him with ease.

There was a grunt from the latter as Namie took a small moment to adjust to the feeling of being full. Then, Izaya’s hand were gripping her hips as she began to move like she knew how.

There was something about watching Izaya’s face contort in and out of pleasure and something else as she bounced that made the sex more exciting. It _turned her on_ to see him without that shit-eating grin, and, instead, immersed in her riding him. She was proud of that.

Several, hot, minutes passed filled with lascivious moans and raunchy sobs before Izaya’s grip on her hips tightened.

He grimaced as he choked on her name amidst his orgasm. Namie felt her body shake as a tremor surged through her, emitting an indecipherable cry.

She gingerly lifted herself off, her hips shaking in the process, and collapsed beside the equally spent man.

Namie heard the sound, of what she knew, to be the condom being thrown away before the uniquely soothing heat of Izaya’s body returned to her side.

Their breathing was labored, but eventually they reached a silent equilibrium.

Namie was suddenly washed with a wave of exhaustion at the activity, “Can I stay here?” She barely managed to whisper over the heaviness of her eye lids. She wasn’t sure if Izaya had heard her at first it was so quiet, but he turned and pulled the covers out from under them.

“Sure, of course.” There was that odd kindness that Izaya rarely showed as he pulled the covers over top of them. They both said nothing as they let the drowsy, weight take over.

              Namie woke up dog-tired and like her limbs were made of lead. There was a heaviness surrounding her and when she finally began to become conscious from her sleep, there was a slender arm draped around her. She followed it and came face-to-face with the sleeping broker. So, he was unsuspectedly a cuddler…unnerving.

He did look surprisingly gentle when he slept though, she thought as she brushed some of the hair from his eyes.

“Having fun?” A groggy voice interrupted her actions as she pulled away quickly at the notion of being caught red-handed. Izaya’s eye’s cracked open tenderly as he rubbed the sleep away to try and bring them to focus.

“How long have you been awake?” Her throat hurt, and it came out drier than she anticipated.

“When you touched my face.” He yawned as he sat up and stretched his sore muscles, a small whine emitting from him before he relaxed.

“Bullshit.”

“I’m a very light sleeper, Namie-chan. It doesn’t take much to stir me.”

Interesting, “Oh, my bad then.”

He yawned again, “Don’t worry about it; you want some tea?”

She blinked, “Sure?”

He nodded and got up from the bed, awkwardly pulling on his sweats, and making his way downstairs. Namie lay quietly in the oversized bed, comfortably, until the man came back up with a few mugs, and offered her one.

She nodded a thanks before taking a cautious sip at the drink. She didn’t recognize this one.

“What is this? I haven’t had this one before.”

“It’s Chamomile; it has rejuvenating properties to help relieve anxiety and stress. Essentially, it naturally relaxes you.”

“Oh,” again, the kindness, “that was thoughtful of you.”

“I give it to everyone the morning after, don’t feel special.” There he was; what a dick.

Namie felt around the ceramic of the cup, “So, what was that thing you did last night?”

He stared with a blank expression, “Coitus?”

“No, no, the other thing where you were…you know…”

“Between your legs?”

She flushed slightly, not enough to where it was noticeable, “Yeah, that.”

“Cunnilingus.”

She cringed, “What a gross word. Don’t call it that.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” He asked annoyed.

“I don’t know; isn’t there a more common phrase that isn’t the actual term?”

“You want me to use the slang?”

“Yes, god, you are so dense.”

He shrugged, “Very well then, I ate your pussy out.”

She gagged on the tea as Izaya laughed hysterically, “That is vile!”

“See? Now cunnilingus doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”

“Disgusting!”

There was silence before Namie spoke up again, “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Pardon?”

“The cunning linguist thing.”

He smirked, “Cunnilingus.”

“Whatever. I’m not an oral sex kind of person.”

“Oh, I adore it.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely, and, for your information, I’ve had _lots_ of practice.”

Her eyes narrowed, “Is that so.”

“Envious?”

She slurped her tea defiantly, “In your dreams.”

More silence, “What time is it?”

Izaya checked his phone and screamed panicked, “Oh fuck!”

“What?” She worried, he turned and grinned.

“It’s a quarter past nine.” He mused, she groaned.

“You are such a dick! I thought something was wrong!”

He feigned confusion, “Don’t you like that about me though?”

“No, it sucks.”

“Well, you weren’t doing much of that, but if you insist, I won’t object.”

She squinted tiredly, “What the hell are you talking about?”

He shrugged, “Nothing at all, Namie, dear! Also,” he raised his mug to her, “Don’t drink tea after oral, because I always forget and it’s a horrible mistake.”

She laughed mockingly, “Maybe you shouldn’t do it so often then.”

“I don’t think so; it’s my best quality.” He joked.

Curiosity took her then, “Have you given blowjobs?”

“I can, but those tend to put me in rough situations.”

She snickered, “Like a dick in your ass?”

There was a pause, “Yes, and I was accidently in a bukkake once.”

“Woah, where were you in that?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

She lay back down and propped her head on her hand, “You get around a lot.”

“Sex is sex no matter who it’s with or what you do in it. The toys and the fetishes are just ornaments to the tree, but at the end of the day it’s still a tree.”

“Big shocker; Izaya Orihara is a whore.”

“I will fire you.” He chuckled between words.

He left to go take a shower she assumed, but she felt to cocky not to keep pushing, “You can’t fire me; we just had sex! We’re intimate now, baby!”

He popped his head through the door, “That’s the safe word! That means we end this right now!”

“You gave me a cunt of biscuits!”

“Cunnilingus! Why the fuck can’t you get that right?”

“Maybe I need another demonstration.”

He stared blankly, perhaps mildly shocked, “Well, all you have to do is ask nicely and I’ll give you a raise!”

“What would I be promoted to?”

“My bitch.”

She stared agape as Izaya began laughing hysterically, “Head downstairs and take a shower; you’re still on the clock.”

Namie couldn’t believe it, “Are you serious right now?”

“Absolutely. Go, you have work to do.”

Namie groaned and got out of the bed. She didn’t care how good this man was in bed, he was an asshole with and without his clothes on.

**Author's Note:**

> Was this good? I don't even know. Let me know what you thought of it. Thanks for reading!


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